


Fire and Water

by SexyPicard



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Daily Prophet, Draco Malfoy Redemption, Eventual Smut, F/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Ministry of Magic (Harry Potter), Ministry of Magic Employee Harry Potter, POV Hermione Granger, Past Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Post-Hogwarts, Redemption, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 19:48:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29830014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SexyPicard/pseuds/SexyPicard
Summary: New chapter every Monday and Thursday! Hermione Granger has spent seven years working a thankless job at the Ministry of Magic. Finally, she takes a leap of faith and takes a job at the Daily Prophet. Her life seems to be making a turn for the better but as she begins to investigate the mysterious rise of dark magics, her newfound happiness is shaken. Even worse, she's forced to interview Draco Malfoy for her article. A Gryffindor and a Slytherin together are like fire and water... some things shouldn't mix.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 5
Kudos: 12





	1. Chapter 1

Hermione ran a brush through her hair but only succeeded in making it bushier. She sighed. She had bought a bottle of Sleakeasy’s just for today but had forgotten about it until the last minute and now it was too late. Instead, she tied it back in a simple bun. That would have to do. She was running late as it was. 

She stepped through her front door and fumbled with the key in the lock for a moment before jogging down the stairs to the street. She had been invited to stay at the Burrow and with her parents after the war but she had wanted her own place. She had been living in the Muggle apartment building for three years and loved the freedom that it afforded her. 

Hermione hurried down the cracked sidewalk. The location of the interview was a restaurant not far from her house and she was determined to get their early. She had mentioned Ginny the previous week that she was looking for a new job and, by sheer luck, Ginny had told her about an opening at the Daily Prophet. 

Hermione sighed. She would never have thought growing up that she would be eager to work for the organization that had slandered herself and her friends so badly. But, at twenty-five and having spent the last seven years working a dead-end job at the Ministry of Magic, she was desperate. Besides, the paper was under new management and had seemed, for all intents and purposes, to have kept its proverbial nose clean ever since the war. It had even published a glowing piece a few months previous on the wedding of Harry and Ginny, one that they had managed to hold in secret with no reporters present. Hermione had been honored to serve as a bridesmaid. She still fondly remembered the way Ginny had glowed as she said her vows. Things were going well for her friends. 

Hermione fought back a surge of jealousy as she came to a stop in from of The Swinging Lantern. Her friends were happy and she was happy for them. So what if her life path had taken a somewhat different direction? She was making the most of it. 

The door opened with a creak as Hermione stepped through. It was dark inside and it took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the light. When they did, she stepped up to an open table and sat down. There were a few other people in the restaurant, but they were all in couples or groups so she knew they weren’t the man she was looking for. She had made it there first. 

She took a second to adjust her hair and take a few deep breaths. When a waitress walked up to the table, Hermione ordered a water and nothing else. She didn’t want to try to make a first impression while eating. 

Hermione smoothed the white blouse that she wore. She had matched it with black slacks and a pair of flat, black shoes. She had forgone the cloak today, knowing that she would be in Muggle London. She wasn’t sure why her interviewer, Jessop Hendricks, had chosen this location for the interview, other than Hermione having mentioned it was close to where she lived. He had said something about his office being under construction after being invaded by a swarm of Cornish Pixies. Having had seen what the Pixies could do first hand, Hermione could well believe it. 

The door swung open and Hermione looked up. Silhouetted against the bright sky outside was a tallish man wearing a hat. Hermione squinted as he came into the light and revealed himself to be a greying man with a short beard, wearing a button up purple shirt and a pair of tweed pants. He made eye contact with Hermione, smiled toothily, and came up to her table, hand extended. 

“Hermione Granger,” he said. His voice was low but he spoke quickly. “What an honor.”

Hermione stood and took his hand, smiling back. “Mister Hendricks, it’s so nice to meet you.”

“Oh, call me Jessop, please,” the man said. He pulled out a chair to sit down and Hermione followed suit.  
“Thank you for meeting with me, Jessop,” Hermione said. 

“It’s my pleasure,” Jessop said. “I had quite a start when you contact my office. ‘Hermione Granger,’ I said. My word. ‘Why would she want to work for me?’ But then I realized, you must have heard great things from Miss Weasley, I mean Potter, even though she is in a different department. “

“I know she’s been very happy at the Prophet,” Hermione said. She twisted the napkin nervously in her hands before setting it back on the table. She reminded herself to talk slowly and not ramble. “I was so happy to hear that there was a position open and just had to apply.”

“Well, I’m glad you did. Now,” Jessop fixed her with a stare, “Down to business. My department is Politics. That means we cover everything the Ministry is doing and how that affects you.” Hermione noticed that he was switching into speech mode. “It’s important that the people know what their government is up to.”

“Oh, I agree,” Hermione said, nodding along. “That’s why I applied for the position. I know Ginny is happy writing in sports but I think political news is right for me. I spent so many years in the Ministry and it always surprised me how little people knew of what really goes on there. There were so many laws and reforms being passed after the war and people hardly noticed.”

Jessop fixed her with a keen eye. “Exactly. There’s a certain shroud of mystery that’s wrapped around our Ministry. People seem happy to let things be decided for them without knowing.”

“And we’ve seen where that gives us.” Hermione shivered as she thought of the horrors that had occurred during the war. “It was my job in the ministry to write up briefs on laws to give to everyone who had a vote. Most of the time they didn’t even read the law itself, just my summary. It was frustrating.” She winced. “I don’t mean to complain. I loved my job at the Ministry.”

“Ah, but that brings me to my first question. Why do you want to leave?”

Hermione had resolved to be as honest as possible. “I don’t feel like my work is valued. I pour my heart into my work, I have ever since I started. I’ve always worked extra hours every night. I didn’t mind, but I don’t feel like I’m going anywhere. I’ve been in my position for seven years and never got selected for promotion. I think they liked what I was doing but it hasn’t been enough for me. At the Prophet, I would have a chance to report on policies that before I was only giving summaries of. I could make sure people know what’s going on and how it affects them.”

She sat back with a sigh. She thought she had stated that well. 

“I like your passion, Miss Granger,” Jessop said. “Now, what about your writing skills?”

An hour later, Hermione was standing on the street smiling fiercely. The interview had gone well. She had provided Jessop with samples of her writing and he had been pleased. He had also seemed happy with the answers she had given to his questions. Well, he must have been, because he had offered the job on the spot. She started in two weeks. Hermione let out a whoop, not caring that people on the street were looking at her strangely. She had done it. She had finally gotten out of her dead-end job and was doing something with her life. She started down the street back to her apartment. She had taken the morning off of work but had to be there for the afternoon. 

The rest of the day went by in a blur. She had hardly noticed the piles of papers on her desk waiting for her review. She was almost free. She smiled amicably when her boss came in to tell her that he needed the briefs by this afternoon, not tomorrow, even though it meant she would have to work overtime. Only two more weeks of this and then she would be free. She would tell him tomorrow once the contract with the Daily Prophet had been mailed to her and signed. She knew her entire department would not be happy but, she told herself, that was not her problem anymore. If they had wanted her to stay, then they should have worked harder to keep her. 

A paper airplane floated through the door and landed on her desk. It was from the Auror’s department. She eagerly opened it up. 

_Hermione,  
So proud of you! You deserve this. Can’t make it tonight, Ron and I have a stakeout. But Ginny says she’ll meet you at the Roaring Ogre at 8 pm sharp. Ron says congrats. Got to run.  
Harry_

Hermione smiled. She had known Harry and Ron would be happy for her. They both knew she hadn’t been happy with her position. She suspected that they also knew she had started to grow envious of their thriving careers as Aurors. Harry was already assistant to the head of the department and Ron was close to leading his own squad. The department had been nearly wiped out in the war and needed rebuilding and they were just the two men to do it. Hermione was proud of both of them.  
Eight o’clock at the Roaring Ogre then. Hermione quickly shifted to another stack of paper and started reading. She would have to hurry if she wanted to get out of work on time. 

At seven on the dot, Hermione rolled up the last parchment and stood up from her desk. Her knees ached from sitting all day and she let out a groan. The walk to the apparating station was short but by the time she got there, she was feeling better. Just two more weeks and she would only see the inside of this room as a reporter. She grinned with satisfaction and popped home. 

Her apartment was a mess, but Hermione didn’t have time to clean it. She had been letting clothes and dishes pile up, too tired after work to even muster the simple spells to whip the place into shape. She would leave it for the weekend, she decided, as she marched into the bedroom. 

She had magicked her closet with a simple bigger on the inside charm so she was able to step inside what should have been a small space. She surveyed the racks, looking for something to wear tonight. She was sorely tempted to just wear her interview/work clothes but tonight was special. She deserved to feel special. 

She tried on a red shirt that draped down to her hips. It had been a gift from her parents, who had started buying her things in red and gold ever since they had understood how Hogwarts houses worked. Never mind that red had never looked good on Hermione. She sighed and hung it back up. Next, she picked out a blue dress, one that fell down to her knees in waves. It was cute but casual and had a low back that was just sexy enough to make Hermione feel scandalous without actually showing anything. It was perfect. Every time she wore it, it reminded her of her dress from the Yule Ball all those years ago.  
Hermione took the time tonight to tame her hair with the potion she had purchased for that morning. Finally, she was looking at herself in the mirror. She looked good. She had always felt awkward as a girl growing up, first because of her hair and then because of her teeth. She had fixed the teeth her fourth year at Hogwarts but she had never been able to tame the hair for more than a night. Over the years though, she had learned to live with and even love it. It was part of who she was and, even though she occasionally tamed the poof, she was happy with it. 

She grinned at her reflection and stepped back into the closet for shoes. She rarely wore heels but tonight she made an exception. Soon she was back in the living room ready to go.

Hermione had been to the Roaring Ogre many times since living in London. It was a small pub off of Diagon Alley that she frequented with her friends. She apparated to a spot close by and walked down the near empty streets toward it. It was a warm evening for the time of year, but summer was apparently coming early. The lights from the shops shone warmly out into the evening dusk and Hermione smiled. For the first time in what felt like years, she felt hopeful about her future.  
The Roaring Ogre stood recessed into the row of shops with a stature of an ogre in front. Hermione opened the door and stepped inside. A wall of sights and sounds rushed to greet her. The bar was full, with chairs and stools being filled with witches and wizards of all ages. Hermione looked around and found Ginny sitting at the bar. Ginny waved and stood up to hug Hermione as she walked up.  
“You looking amazing,” Ginny said. Her cheeks were rosy tinted to match her hair and Hermione noticed that her drink was almost empty. 

“Thank you, so do you,” Hermione answered. Ginny was wearing a green tunic with leggings. “I’m surprised Harry let you outside in that.”

Ginny laughed as she pulled herself up onto a barstool and Hermione followed suit. “Because it’s short of because it’s Slytherin colors? I think either would give him a heart attack. I love that man but he can be old-fashioned sometimes. I’m sorry he couldn’t make it, by the way. I know he and Ron are happy for you, though.”

“Oh, I know they are!” Hermione assured her friend. “He sent me a note saying he was sorry he couldn’t make it. We’ll have to get together some weekend, maybe at the Burrow.”

“I know mum would like that,” Ginny said. “She misses you.”

“I miss all of them, it seems like it’s been forever since I was there. It was weird for a while with Ron…” Hermione trailed off and was saved by the bartender approaching. She ordered a vodka cranberry and turned back to Ginny, who was smiling softly.

“I know. None of us blamed you though. You two were so cute together but then once everything settled down, we could tell it wasn’t going to work. You’re both too bull-headed.”

Hermione laughed. “We’re a lot alike but at the same time we’re so different. I do wish him well though. It seems like he and Harry are doing so well in their careers.”

Ginny let out a squeal and had Hermione half standing up out of her chair. “Speaking of careers! We can’t forget why we’re here! I am so proud of you.”

Hermione laughed. “Thank you! I couldn’t believe it when he offered me the job right there. I thought for sure I would have to interview a few more times.”

Ginny scoffed. “The famous Hermione Granger? Never! I’m surprised he interviewed you at all, after my glowing recommended.” She grinned as a second firewhiskey was placed before her and she took a swallow. She was turning pinker by the drink. 

“Oh, of course,” Hermione agreed. “I’m sure they let you do all the hiring.”

“They should,” Ginny insisted. “I told them I had a bad feeling about Blaze Zabini and I was right, wasn’t I?”  
“You just said that because you don’t like him.”

Ginny scoffed. “Of course not. I’m not that petty. He refused to do any of the work required and wanted to just add his by-line to everything I wrote.”

“I don’t really see him covering Quidditch,” Hermione conceded. 

“There you go,” Ginny said. “But you, you’re perfect. You’re a hard worker and we know you can write well. Plus, you’re tenacious. I don’t see you backing down from anyone.”

“You’re making me blush!” Hermione said. She took a sip of her vodka cranberry. It tasted good. It had been a long time since she had had a drink that wasn’t poured from a bottle in her apartment. 

“It’s all true!” Ginny said. “I’m proud of you. You’re going to do great.”

“Just two more weeks and we’ll find out,” Hermione agreed. She took a longer drink and surveyed the bar. She knew some of the men and women gathered around it, either from school or from her time at the Ministry. Parvati Patil made eye contact and smiled before returning back to her table. Hermione grinned back.

“Do you ever think about school?” Hermione asked, turning back to Ginny.

“Sometimes,” her friend answered. “It seems like it was a long time ago.”

“It does, doesn’t it? Sometimes everything that seemed so important then seems so petty now.”  
“What, you mean if you had to do it over you wouldn’t be so focused on your grades?” Ginny teased.

“Me? No way. But things like relationships.” She giggled suddenly. “Remember when Harry had to ask someone to the Yule Ball?” 

Ginny rolled her eyes. “He was so dense back then. Still is, matter of fact. But now he’s able to talk to me without blushing.”

“And then you dated Dean Thomas.”

“He was a good kisser,” Ginny said. She met Hermione’s gaze and both women collapsed into a fit of giggles. Ginny waved at the bartender and pointed at their now empty drinks. 

“You never really dated in school, though,” Ginny commented.

“I was too busy!”

“Yeah, saving the world does that,” Ginny said dryly.

“Plus, I was focused on school.” Hermione pushed her drink away and accepted the new one. She was raising it to her lips when she noticed Ginny gazing across the room. “What?”

“I didn’t think we’d see him here.”

Hermione turned around in her chair and looked at where Ginny was staring. There was a corner table with three men sitting at it. Hermione didn’t recognize two of them, but she did recognize the unmistakable head of silver-blonde hair. As she looked, the head turned and she locked eyes with Draco Malfoy. 

Hermione quickly turned back to Ginny. “What’s wrong with that?” she asked. She wished he hadn’t caught her staring. She took another sip of her drink. 

“Oh, nothing. He’s a weaselly git but he’s allowed to go out, I guess.”

Hermione thought for a second. “I guess so.”

Ginny looked at her. “Oh, don’t let him ruin your night!”

“I’m not,” Hermione promised. “I just… We were just saying that school was a long time ago but then we see him and it’s like we’re right back there again, you know?”

Ginny sighed. Hermione watched her friend’s eyes drift back to the corner table. “It was a long time ago, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t happen. And even though Harry vouched for him after the Battle of Hogwarts, we never really trusted him, you know? But you’ve seen him since then, haven’t you, at the Ministry?”

“Sort of. He would come in to vote on some of the laws sometimes. He stopped by my office a few weeks ago to pick up a brief, actually.”

“What did you talk about?”

Hermione laughed. “Nothing. I think he asked how work was going? It’s always so awkward.”  
Ginny fiddled with her glass. “I guess some things never change.”

“I’m okay with that,” Hermione said. She tipped back her glass. “I’m not letting him ruin my night.”  
Ginny waved at the bartender for two more drinks. Hermione’s head was already swimming but she knew the night was just beginning. 

An hour later, they were deep in their cups. 

“And then!” Ginny paused for emphasis. “And then, he tells me, ‘Quidditch is too dangerous!’”  
“He did not!” 

“He did!”

Hermione hiccupped and adjusted the shoulder of her dress, which was slipping down her arm. “Quidditch??”

“Yes!” Ginny’s bright red face broke into a smile. 

“He’s an auror!” Hermione stated. She frowned, as if trying to connect the dots. “Like a week ago he was fighting a dark wizard in Surrey.”

“He was!” Ginny agreed. “And he thought that me getting knocked off my broom by Viktor Krum was worth quitting over.”

Hermione shook her head. “That’s ridiculous. Plus, Viktor wasn’t even trying to knock you off. He wrote me the next week and told me.”

Ginny smiled. “I don’t think that would have mattered to Harry. And do you still keep in touch? That would be so cute!”

Hermione nodded. “We write about once a month or so.”

“Why haven’t you dated him?” Ginny demanded. Hermione shook her head and then stopped as the room spun. She put both hands on the bar to steady herself. “You okay?”

Hermione nodded. “I think I drank a little too much.”

Ginny paused for a second and then nodded. “Me too.” She looked at her almost empty glass of firewhiskey and downed it in one last gulp. 

“We should probably get going,” Hermione said reluctantly. She had no idea what time it was but she had work tomorrow and she knew she wasn’t going to get enough sleep. 

Ginny groaned. “Guess so. Finish your drink. I’m buying.”

Hermione protested but Ginny insisted. They stepped outside into the night air and were halfway down the street when Hermione stopped.

“I forgot my purse.”

“Oh! Let’s go back.” Ginny wheeled around in an unsteady circle. 

“It’s okay! You should get home.”

“I’ll go with you,” Ginny protested but Hermione shook her head. 

“It’s really okay. I’ll be fine. You get home and get some rest, you’re just across the street. You’ll be home before I even get back to the bar. I’ll see you soon!”

Hermione turned and hurried back to the bar, her heels clicking on the stone street. She found her purse inside where she had left it and stepped back out into the night. She felt a little light-headed from the closeness of the bar so she paced to the middle of the empty street, trying to clear it. As she went to turn, her heel caught on a flagstone and she teetered before regaining her balance.

“Careful, Granger.”

Hermione’s head snapped up to find the speaker. From the shadows behind the ogre stature, a man stepped forward. The light from inside the bar reflected on his blonde hair.

“Malfoy,” Hermione whispered. 

“Wouldn’t want you to break an ankle.”

Hermione glared at him as he paced closer. “I’ll be fine.”

Malfoy held up his hands in mock surrender. “Not here to fight you, Granger. Just don’t want to see you falling down in the middle of the street.”

“I’m touched that you care,” Hermione retorted. Even drunk, it was so easy to fall back into the habits of their school years. 

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Malfoy said, an easy smirk on his face. Hermione glared. Some part of her knew that, drunk, she was no match for him a battle of the wits but that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to try. 

“I’m doing just fine, thank you.”

“I can tell. What happened to your friend, the Weasley?”

“She went home, for your information.” Without meaning to, a giggle rose to her lips. “I forgot my purse.” She held it up for him to inspect.

Malfoy raised his eyebrows. “So you did,” he said. He slid his hands into the pockets of the jeans he was wearing and surveyed Hermione. “What is your plan to get home?”

“My plan?” Hermione asked as she carefully slid the purse strap over her shoulder.

“I’m hoping you don’t mean to apparate.”

“And why shouldn’t I?” Hermione took a step and teetered again. 

“You’re in no state to be apparating anywhere,” he said, stepping closer. 

“I’ll make that decision myself,” Hermione said, only half paying attention to him as she tried to regain her balance and adjusting her purse at the same time. The cool night air rushed against her arms and back, raising goosebumps. She should really have worn a warmer dress, she thought. She turned her attention back to Malfoy, rubbing her hands over her arms as she did so. She frowned at him. “I’m sorry, why are you still here?”

Malfoy seemed to think about it for a second. “I don’t really know.”

“Hmm,” was Hermione’s only answer. “Well in that case, I’ll be going.” She spun on her heel and marched down the street. At least, that was her intention. In reality, she stepped back onto the heel of her shoes, lost her balance, and fell with a plop onto her butt. She sat for a second staring at her torn panty hose and feeling the cold stones beneath her. Another giggle rose to her lips and before she knew it, she was lying back on the cold ground. The stars were really beautiful this time of year, she thought. Then a shape blocked her view and she was staring up into the eyes of her school nemesis. She groaned.  
“Just leave me alone.”

“As much as I would love to do that, Granger, I think it’s my civic duty to help here.”

Hermione harumphed. “Civic duty?”

“As a member of the Ministry of Magic, I have certain expectations—”

“Member of the Ministry?” Hermione burst out. She sat up and craned her neck to look at Malfoy. “You swan in once a month to vote on a law and then swan out again. Member of the Ministry, my arse.”

“Whereas you fill a much more important role,” Malfoy sneered, gazing down at her.

Hermione pushed her hair back from her face. Her fall had knocked some of it lose and it was returning to its usual puffiness. “I’ll have you know that I’ve accepted a job at the Daily Prophet. So yes, I’ll be doing something more important.”

“Out celebrating with the Weasel then?”

Hermione glared at him. “Would you please leave?”

Malfoy looked at Hermione for a moment and then unexpectantly held out a hand. “Let me take you home.”

Hermione turned right red. “Let you what?” She demanded. She pushed his hand aside and struggled determinedly to her feet. “What part of this conversation gave you even the faintest idea that I would want to go home with you?”

“Your home, Granger,” Malfoy said, rolling his eyes. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Believe me, the thought of what you’re suggesting is more distasteful to me than it is to you.”

“Oh yeah, wouldn’t want to dirty yourself with a Mudblood,” Hermione snapped. She turned even redder than before, if it was possible, as she realized what Malfoy had actually been offering. “Oh.”

“Precisely,” Malfoy sneered. “As it is, you’re in more condition to apparate. You’re likely to get yourself splinched. Tell me where you live and I’ll take you there.”

“That’s really…very considerate of you.” Hermione smoothed her dress and tugged it down where it has been riding up her thighs. She brushed off her bum and adjusted her purse. “In that case, I accept. I live at the corner of Hudson and High, if you know where that is.”

“As a matter of fact, I’ve been to The Swinging Lantern,” Malfoy said coolly. He extended at arm and Hermione slowly placed her hand on his forearm. “If you’re ready.”

Hermione nodded. She felt a tug in her navel and the world disappeared to be replaced with the alley behind the restaurant. She adjusted her dress again. 

“Stop preening, Granger, you look fine,” Malfoy said. He kicked a trashcan and started down the alley. He made it halfway before he turned around. “Are you coming?”

“I can make it home from here by myself,” Hermione insisted.

“I’m sure you can,” was Malfoy’s only reply. He disappeared around the corner but Hermione didn’t hurry to catch up. She found he leaning against her apartment building when she finally made it to the street.

“How did you know where I lived?” she asked. Malfoy looked between her and the apartment building with something like disgust on his face.

“Here? You can’t be serious, Granger. Surely the Ministry pays you better than that.”

“Some of us actually have to work for a living, Malfoy,” Hermione snapped, putting an especially angry emphasis on his name. “I’ll have you know that it’s quite nice inside.”

“I’m sure it is, for a Muggle.”

Hermione made a face at him and then pushed past him to enter her code into the building. It buzzed her in and she opened the door. For some reason, she turned back to look at Malfoy but he had already disappeared, having appartated away in plain sight. She rolled her eyes and climbed the stairs to her apartment. She was going to have a hell of a headache the next day.


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione was able to take hangover potion the next day and so was mostly functional at work. The days of the week slowly ticked by. She had plans to visit Harry and Ginny that weekend and she was looking forward to it. She told her boss about her new job offer. The main result of that seemed to be the dumping of even more work into Hermione’s lap in a frantic frenzy to get it all done before she left. As a result, she was tired and ready for the week to end by the time Friday hit. She had a late lunch in the cafeteria and returned to her desk. She rubbed her eyes as she sat down and only looked up when she heard a cough. Her eyes snapped open to see Draco Malfoy standing in the corner of her office, leaning against a bookcase.

“What do you want?” She asked, startled. Her face started to turn red when she thought of the last time she had seen him. She had…not been at her best. She wanted to die from shame when she thought back to the insinuation she had thought he was making.

“I need the brief for next week’s vote.”

Hermione stared at him blankly, then frowned. “The law governing house elves?”

Malfoy nodded, just a slight tip of the head. Hermione bit her lip as she thought and then started sifting through stacks of parchment on her desk.

“I’d have thought you’d be more organized than this,” Malfoy observed. He stepped away from the bookcase and came to lean against the desk. Hermione glared at him. 

“I usually am. This has been a busy week. Ah, here it is.”

Hermione pulled a folder from the corner of the table and opened it. Inside, in neat handwriting, was a summary of the proposed law. She cast a copying spell on it and a piece of blank parchment started filling with words. As she waited, she looked up at Malfoy. He seemed to be studying her. She self consciously pushed her hair back from her face as she looked away. He was wearing all black, with a silver fastener at his neck to hold his cloak on. As always, he looked flawless.

“Why do you need this?” Hermione asked to fill the silence. “The vote isn’t until next Thursday.”

“I thought I would take the time to study the bill in more depth. After all, if house elves are to be paid then that will affect my family.”

Hermione scoffed. “Of course. It would be a shame to dip into that Malfoy fortune for something actually worthwhile.”

Malfoy raised an eyebrow but didn’t respond. Hermione shifted uneasily. She wasn’t quite sure why she was being so hostile. After all, Malfoy was well within his rights to ask for the summary. She gave a sigh of relief when the copying spell finished. She cast a drying spell, rolled up the parchment, and handed it to Malfoy. He took it, slowly sliding it between his fingers as he unfolded and scanned it.

“There’s an error here,” he said. “The ‘House-Elf Obedience Act’ was passed in 1514, not 1415.”

Hermione blinked. “That’s true,” she said, grabbing the parchment out of his hands to amend it before handing it back. “Uh, thank you.”

Malfoy grunted. “Hopefully whoever they find to fill your position will pay better attention to details.”

Hermione glared at him. “How did you know I was leaving?”

He raised his eyebrows. “You told me, remember? Or maybe not. You were rather out of it.”

Hermione immediately colored. “I, uh,” she said, struggling to find something to say. For once, she was tongue-tied.

Malfoy nodded. “Goodbye, Granger.”

She glared at his back as he disappeared out her door and down the hallway. Of all the stuck up… She mentally cursed herself yet again for having drank so much. She usually didn’t let herself get into a position like that. And as much as it pained her to admit it, he had actually been helpful. She probably had been in no position to apparate home. 

Hermione sighed and returned to her work. “One more week,” she muttered to herself. “Just one more week.”

The next day, Hermione slept in and then got dressed in comfortable clothes. She checked her pockets for her wallet and keys and then apparated to Harry and Ginny’s entryway.

“Hello?” she called, not wanting to walk right in. Harry appeared around the corner, trying to flatten his hair. It looked wet. 

“Hey, Hermione, come on in,” he said. “I just got out of the shower.”

“Hey, Harry,” Hermione said, smiling. She hadn’t seen her friend in a while and it was good to finally have a day with him. She followed him into the living room and sat down on the couch. He took the chair. 

“How have you been doing?” Harry asked.

“Good! Greer has loaded up so much more work on me now that she knows that I’m leaving. But I’m managing. It helps knowing that I’ll be out of there soon.”

“I bet. You’ve been so unappreciated there, I’m glad you’re leaving.”

“Oh, me too. I kept thinking it I just stuck it out… But the Daily Prophet seems like a much better fit.”

“What will you be doing? Oh, hey Gin.”

Ginny entered from one of the bedrooms and took a seat next to Hermione. “Hermione’s going to be working in the political department,” she said. She tucked her feet up behind her on the couch. “And she’s going to do great.”

“Thank you for the confidence,” Hermione said. “I hope you’re right.”

“I am,” Ginny said confidently. “I know Hendricks. He’s a good guy. He’ll give you some good stories.”

“I’m hoping my connections in the Ministry will help,” Hermione said. “A lot of people know me so I’m hoping they’ll talk to me.”

“You’ve made a good name for yourself there,” Harry agreed.

“Not as good as you,” Hermione teased. “I hear you’ll be running the department soon.”

“Not quite that good,” Harry said. “But it is going well. Ron and I had a big bust on Tuesday.”

“From your stakeout?” Hermione asked. “What happened?”

Harry opened his mouth to answer but Ginny interrupted. “He can’t talk about it so don’t even try asking,” Ginny said. “All I get is ‘Its confidential, dear.’” She burst out laughing and Harry grinned. 

“It really is, though,” he said apologetically. 

Ginny reached over and patted his arm. “I know, I’m teasing you. Mind you, it is frustrating but I understand.”

“But things are going well.” Harry checked his watch. “Ron should be here soon.”

“Oh, is Ron coming?” Hermione asked.

“Is that alright?” Ginny asked, looking concerned.

“Of course it is!” She glanced between Harry and Ginny. They both looked slightly concerned. “Honestly, we broke up five years ago. I think I’m over it.”

“Well, that’s good,” Harry said. “I thought we could get lunch and then go to Diagon Alley. I need a new quill set and Ginny wanted to look at the new broom line.”

“That sounds great,” Hermione said.

“Speaking of Ron, though,” Ginny said, and Hermione noticed a mischievous gleam in her eyes. “Gone on any dates recently?”

“Who, me?” Hermione asked. “Merlin, no. I’m barely keeping my head above water at work. I don’t have time to date.”

“Oh,” Ginny said and she looked disappointed. “I mean, it doesn’t have to be a date, it could be just a fling…”

“Ginny!” Hermione blushed and Ginny smirked at her.

“You’re blushing! She’s blushing, Harry. What happened?”

“Oh, nothing,” Hermione said. She had unintentionally thought back to the night when Draco had apparated her home. That had been the closest a man had come to her apartment in months.

“What is it? Tell us quick before Ron gets here.”

“Ugh,” Hermione moaned. “You’re not letting this go?” 

“Nope,” Ginny said. Even Harry looked curious. Embarrassed but curious.

“Well, that night we went out and I went back for my purse—”

“You met someone?!” Ginny exclaimed gleefully.

“No! But I ran into Malfoy and—”

“You slept with Malfoy?” Ginny demanded, the glee turning to disgust in a heartbeat.

“Oh my god, no, of course not.” Hermione actually shuddered. “But he apparated me home because I was so drunk. I might have splinched myself!” She added hurriedly by way of appeasement. 

“Oh. Ew. To the splinching, that is. And to Malfoy. How did that happen?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Hermione said. She could feel her face burning up. “I was pretty drunk.”

“Draco Malfoy,” Ginny said thoughtfully as she leaned back. “So, you’re saying that the most action you’ve gotten in months is Draco Malfoy.”

“Ginny!” Hermione buried her head in her hands. “That’s not what happened.”

“I mean, I don’t judge,” Ginny said, sounding perfectly even. “He’s kind of cute in a blonde sort of way.”

“Ginny!”

“What do you think, Harry?”

Harry raised his hands. “I’m staying out of this.”

“Thank you!” Hermione exclaimed. Ginny swatted her arm.

“Oh, I’m just kidding. Only because I know that would never happen.” She mock shuddered, wrapping her arms around her. “Hermione and Malfoy. What an awful thought.”

“I’m glad you find it so funny,” Hermione said. “Plus, he had to swing by my office today and, oh Merlin, I’m so embarrassed. I was so drunk.”

“What exactly happened?” Harry asked, looking curious despite himself.

“Oh, nothing, I just said a lot of stupid stuff. And I fell over.”

“Classic Hermione,” Ginny said. “I’m sorry I missed it.

“Sorry you missed what?” The three of them turned to the kitchen and found Ron turning the corner from the entryway. 

“Ron!” Ginny exclaimed, hopping off the couch. 

“Glad you could make it, mate,” Harry said, standing up as well. Hermione followed them.

“Good to see you,” she said as she came to stand in front of him.

“You too,” Ron said, grinning. His shock of red hair had grown out to past his ears and was almost as messy as Harry’s. 

“I’m starving,” Ginny announced and Hermione was grateful to her for not bring Malfoy back up. In front of Ron, the whole thing seemed even worse.

“Let’s head out. The Leaky Cauldron?” Harry asked.”

“I’m fine with anything,” Ron told them. He slung an arm around Ginny’s shoulder. “How’s my ickle sister?”

Ginny weaseled her way out from under his arm and swatted him away. “Get off me, you big oaf.” She hopped forward to take Harry’s hand and the four of them apparated to the alley behind the Leaky Cauldron. Inside, they found a table for four and Harry and Ron ordered beers. Hermione, thinking back to that night, ordered a lemonade. 

“Water for me,” Ginny said. She glanced over at Hermione. “Had a little too much at the Ogre.”

“Same here,” Hermione said. She glanced at the menu but already knew she was getting a sandwich. “How are George and Angelina?” 

“They’re fine,” Ron said and took a long drink of his beer. “Mum’s been on them about having kids but I don’t think Angelina’s having any of it.”

“Last time she asked, George said they’re going to adopt some of Charlie’s dragons,” Ginny interjected. “That shut her up.”

“I can imagine,” Hermione said. 

“She keeps saying how people our age all have kids. And how she was younger when she had Bill.”

“She also didn’t have a career,” Hermione pointed out. 

Ron let out a loud laugh. “Don’t try telling her that. She’s been after me to get married ever since you and I broke up.”

“There’s lot of people our age who aren’t even married,” Hermione pointed out. “You, me.”

“Parvati Patil,” Ginny cut in.

“Really? Have you talked to her? I saw her at the Ogre.”

“We chat. She’s apprenticing under Professor Trelawney.”

Hermione shuddered. “I don’t know who to feel worse for.”

“I know she was devastated after Lavender died. I think it’s good she found something. But still…” Ginny rolled her eyes. “We all know how you feel about divination.”

“Don’t act like you believe it any more than me,” Hermione shot back. She looked around the table. “Any of you.”

“Good thing you’re not writing the Horoscopes for the Prophet.”

“I should think so,” Hermione answered. 

“You excited to start?” Ron asked. Hermione nodded enthusiastically.

“Oh, yes. I can’t wait. There’s so much I want to write about. This new House Elf bill for instance.”

Ron groaned. “Gonna bring back SPEW?” he asked.

“No, I am not, Ronald,” Hermione told him. “But someone needs to stand up for them. Requiring that wages be at least offered is a good start, even though most probably won’t accept.”

“I think it’s a great idea,” Harry said. 

“I have something you can write about,” Ron interjected, looking suddenly serious. Everyone turned to him. He wiped beer off his lips and glanced at Harry. “We’re not supposed to talk about this, but there’s been a recent rise in dark wizard activity.”

“Ron,” Harry said warningly.

“Relax, Harry, I’m not going to tell them anything confidential. But Ginny’s probably noticed that we’ve been out a lot more of multi-day missions. There’s been a rise in dark magic all around England and no one knows why.”

“That’s awful!” Ginny said, looking between her brother and husband. “What are you doing about it?”

Harry sighed, looking resigned. “I’ve been tasked with finding a pattern so I’ve been gathering all the information I can. So far it looks like isolated cases but it’s too much and too often to be a coincidence. I think something’s happening.”

Ron shrugged. “Right now, all we can do is wait and deal with things as they pop up. Earlier this week we found a cache of dark artifacts and destroyed them. So that’s a win for the good guys.”

“The good guys who are supposed to be keeping quiet about it,” Harry said, glaring at Ron. But his expression softened as he looked between Ginny and Hermione. “It’s not enough to worry about yet, just something we’re keeping an eye on.”

“Well, I hope you figure out whatever is going on,” Ginny said. “And be careful doing it.”

“Always,” Harry said, leaning in to peck Ginny on the lips. 

“Oi!” Ron exclaimed. Ginny laughed and the somber mood was broken. They finished the rest of the meal in companionable conversation. Once they had eaten, they made their way to Diagon Alley where Harry purchased a new quill and ink set at Flourish and Blotts. Hermione and Ron strolled down the Alley as Ginny went in to look at brooms. 

“You’re being careful, aren’t you?” Hermione asked as they looked into the windows of the pet store. Neither of them had anything they needed to buy. 

“I am,” Ron said, sounding serious. “We have a good team, and Harry and I, we watch each other’s backs. We’re safe.”

“I worry about you two,” Hermione said. She tapped the glass and smiled at a barn owl through the window. 

“I wish you wouldn’t. It’s bad enough with mum owling me every other day.”

Hermione laughed. “She never wanted you to be an auror. But you’re good at it. I’m really proud of you, and Harry.”

“Don’t go getting all sentimental on me, Granger,” Ron said.

“Of course not.” Hermione turned back to the owl. “I just realized; I’m going to have to buy an owl.”

“You don’t have one?” Ron asked.

Hermione shook her head. “I always used the Ministry owls if I needed to send anything. I was at work so much that it didn’t seem to make a difference.”

“How would Crookshanks react?”

“She was always fine with Hedwig,” Hermione said. She opened the door to the shop and walked in. Ten minutes later, they emerged, with Hermione carrying a cage with a cloth draped over it. Inside was the Barn Owl. 

“What are you going to name her?” Ron asked.

“I’m not sure yet,” Hermione said. She smiled down at the cage. “My first owl! How exciting. Oh, look, there they are.”

“What did you buy?” Harry asked. He was carrying a parcel under one arm and something that looked suspiciously like a wrapped-up broom under the other. Ginny was eating a chocolate sundae. 

“A barn owl!” Hermione said. “I’ve never had one.” She lifted the fabric a little so they could look inside the cage. “Isn’t she beautiful?”

They all agreed that she was. The rest of the afternoon passed quickly and soon Hermione was back in her flat. She opened the cage but the owl stayed inside so she let it be. Maybe it would take time for it to get used to her. She curled up on the couch with Crookshanks and a book but her mind wandered. 

She had dug a little more information out of Ron in the pet store. The dark magic that he and Harry had been investigating all seemed to be tied to dark magical artifacts belonging to old family houses, but they didn’t know where the suspects were getting them or what they were using them for. It wasn’t much to go on but it was enough to make Hermione nervous for her friends. She had long ago gotten used to worrying about them, but things had been easier in the last few years after the cleanup from the war was complete. Their jobs had almost seemed mundane at times. Now there was some new threat.

Hermione shook her head to clear her thoughts and returned her attention to her book. She didn’t need to worry about those things. She had seen time and time again that Harry and Ron were more than capable of taking care of themselves. Besides, in a week’s time she would be a reporter and, if she wanted, she could dig more into the story then.


	3. Chapter 3

The next week went by at a crawl but finally it was Monday again and Hermione was apparating to her first day at work. She easily found the Prophet building in Diagon alley and stepped inside. She was met by a bustle of activity. The main room was filled with desks and a long hallway ran straight back into the building. Paper airplanes zoomed around the room and, as she stepped further in, she had to duck to avoid getting hit by several of them. She must have looked confused because a young man stepped up to her. He was smartly dressed and wore a royal blue cloak. When he held out a hand to her, she noticed it was ink-stained. She took it and he shook it firmly.

“You must be Hermione Granger,” he said. “I’m Lionel Limus, I’m a junior reporter for the Political section.”

“Nice to met you, Lionel,” Hermione said.

“Jessop asked me to show you to your desk and get you settled. He’s in a meeting right now but he’s going to stop by later. Your desk is this way.”

He led her down the long hallway almost to the end and showed her into the small office. There were two desks facing each other and barely enough room in between them to stand. One was covered in papers while the other was bare, holding only a quill and ink. He directed her to the second one.

“We’ll share this office,” Lionel said. “That’s your desk. There’s parchment in the next room and any other supplies you’ll need.”

“Thank you,” Hermione said, sitting down. Lionel sat down across from her. If they held out their arms, she thought they would almost be able to touch. It was about the same size as her office at the Ministry, but she hadn’t had to share that with anyone. “So, where do we start?”

“I’ll let you get settled here and then I’ll introduce you around to everyone. You’ll be helping me with an article to start with as we get you settled in, then I think Jessop has some leads for you to follow up on.”

“Sounds good.” 

Hermione unpacked her bag, which held her own quill and ink set as well as some parchment that she preferred using. Once she was done, Lionel took her around the office. The names and faces soon blurred together and Hermione hoped that she would eventually learn all of them. She would be seeing them every day after. 

Finally, they returned to their office.

“Okay, so I’ll fill you in on what I’m working on until Jessop gets here,” Lionel said. “I’m writing a piece on the new House-Elf legislation that just passed.”

“Oh, I wrote up the brief for that,” Hermione said eagerly. “I was so happy when it passed.”

“Oh good, you’ll be able to help with it then. I haven’t been able to get through all the details.”

Hermione nodded in sympathy. “It was a long bill. But it boils down a lot. Basically, anyone who currently owns a house-elf is required to offer them money for their work. The offer has to be witnessed and then filed with the Ministry. That’s good for five years. In five years, they have to remake the offer and prove that the house elves both refused and are living a higher quality of life than they are currently. Oh, and if you take possession of a new house elf you have to pay him or her.”

Lionel nodded along with Hermione’s explanation. “Okay, that’s about what I thought. Thank you, though, it’s nice to get it broken down.”

“I’ve had a lot of experience reading legalese,” Hermione told him. 

“You’ll do well here. We tried hiring someone last month but he couldn’t catch on so we had to let him go.”

Hermione silently prayed that she would do better. 

“So, what do we need to do?”

“We’ve already released a piece on the bill itself and got comments from the writer. Now we’re going with the other side to let people know how this is going to affect the people who own house elves.”

Hermione snorted. “I’m sure they’re none too pleased.”

“You’d be right. I’ve got a list of names here of people who might be willing to do an interview. Want to split it up and start?”

“Sounds good,” Hermione told him. She took the list from him and scanned it. As she expected, it was mainly old, well-established families. One name caught her eye and she grimaced. “How about I take the first half?” she asked. She did not feel like asking Draco Malfoy his opinion on house elves today. Lionel agreed, so Hermione copied her half of the list, gathered up her quill and parchment, and set out.

She went to the easier houses first, the ones who she knew would be more receptive. With luck, she wouldn’t have to make it to the less savory parts of the list. The first house she tried belonged to a Miss Walburga Everhart and was on the northern side of the city. She knocked with hesitation, but her fear was unfounded. Miss Everhart proved to be an elderly woman of eighty who was delighted to hear that her elves would be paid because it meant she would be able to dress them in her crocheted onesies, something she had been dreaming of doing. Hermione took as many notes as she could, thanked the woman for her time, and quickly escaped before she could be convinced to take a knitted hat with a lion on it. 

The next interviewee was less positive about the law and spent a good ten minutes ranting about the degradation of society. Hermione meekly thanked him for his time before hurrying out of the house. She took a deep breath and stopped off at a pub for a bite to eat before going on to the next one. After she had finished her third interview, she decided that was enough and returned to the office. Despite it being early in the afternoon, she was already exhausted. She spent most of her days at the Ministry sequestered in her office with her notes and her files. She hadn’t spent this much time talking to strangers in a long time. She knew she could do it, but it would take some getting used to. 

Hermione found Lionel in the office writing away with his quill. He looked up when she entered. 

“Oh good, you made it. How did it go?”

“It went great,” Hermione said. She started unpacking her bag and organizing her notes. “I had one for, one against, and one who was just worried that it would prevent him from passing his house elf down to his son when he died. Once he found out that the legality of employing a house elf isn’t in question, he was all for it.”

“You did better than me,” Lionel told her. “One man threatened to throw me out since he seemed to think that I was the one who wrote the bill in the first place.”

“Oh no,” Hermione sympathized, hiding a smile. “Well, I think we should have enough for the article.”

“Why don’t you start drafting it so I can see what you come up with?”

Hermione agreed and started writing. She was interrupted half an hour later when Jessop appeared at the door. “I see you’re busy already,” he said.

Hermione finished the sentence she was writing and set the quill down. “She’s doing great,” Lionel said. “We went out and did interviews this morning and now we’re drafting the article.”

“Good,” Jessop said. “I want that in tomorrow’s edition.”

“We’ll have it done,” Hermione promised. 

“After that, I have some leads I want you to follow up on,” Jessop said.

“Actually,” Hermione said, “there was something I wanted to write about, too. There’s been an increase in arrests of dark witches and wizards and it seems to have something to do with trade in illegal artifacts. I know that’s more law enforcement than legal, but it’s a good lead.”

“Hmm,” Jessop said. “I have some things I want you to work on but if you have time, you can follow up on your own lead. How does that sound?”

“That sounds good,” Hermione said. “We’ll get you the article by the end of the day.”

“Carry on,” Jessop said.

Hermione and Lionel worked for the rest of the day until Hermione’s hand ached. Finally, they had a passible article. 

“I’ll finish up here, you can head on home,” Lionel said. When Hermione protested, he shook his head. “It’s really fine. It’s your first day and you wrote most of the article so far. I’ll finish it.”

Hermione thanked him and then went to find Ginny’s office. The two women chatted for a minute before Ginny had to return to work. Hermione felt guilty about leaving so early but, with Lionel insisting, there was little she could it. It was only five o’clock and, while that had been her official end time at the Ministry, she usually didn’t make it home until seven at the earliest. Stepping into her flat at five felt like a luxury.

Hermione quickly fed Crookshanks and went to check on her owl, which she had name Ptolemy. He had warmed up to her over the last week and was sitting happily on his stand by the window. She fed him and started cooking dinner for herself. Wand busy, she let her thoughts wander. It had been a good first day, she thought. She liked Lionel and working with him seemed like it would be easy. She had always enjoyed writing but most of what she had done recently was interpreting legal language into something easier to read. It had not left much room for creativity or imagination. While writing for the political section of the Prophet was certainly not going to be very fanciful, it would let her write things in her own style. She was looking forward to that.

A pot boiling over brought her thoughts back to the present and she quickly finished up her supper. She carried her plate to the small table and was just sitting down when she heard a knocking at the window. She looked up to find a snowy owl perched on the windowsill. Hermione quickly crossed the room and opened the window, taking the owl inside and carefully untying a parchment from its leg. She recognized the owl as Harry and Ginny’s and, once she unrolled the paper, she found Ginny’s scrawling hand. 

_Hermione,_  
_Harry’s at St. Mungo’s and they won’t let me see him. Please come quick and meet me at my flat._  
_Ginny_

Hermione bit back a gasp of shock and quickly threw on her cloak before apparating to Ginny’s flat. She found her friend pacing the room. The red-head whirled around when she heard the faint pop. She looked like she had been crying but her face was fiercely determined.

“Oh, Ginny, what happened?” Hermione asked quickly.

Ginny walked up to Hermione and grabbed her arm. She was shaking.

“Harry and Ron were out on some mission when they were attacked. Harry’s at Saint Mungo’s and Ron is at the office debriefing. No one will tell me anything, they just say to wait!”

“How badly is he hurt?” Hermione asked, trying to remain calm. 

“I don’t know,” Ginny said, her voice breathy. “Not that bad, I don’t think, they said it wasn’t life threatening. But they say I can’t see him until the Healers are done with him. They threw me out, Hermione!”

“Let’s sit down,” Hermione said. She guided her friend to the sofa and they both sat. Hermione took Ginny’s hand in her own. “I’m sure they would tell you if it was anything that serious.”

“But it has to be serious, for Harry to be sent there,” Ginny protested. “The Ministry has their own healers who deal with anything small.”

Hermione bit her lip. She knew Ginny was right. She took a deep breath and tried to think of what to say to calm her friend. 

“I just hate being so helpless,” Ginny said.

“I know,” Hermione said. “So do I. I used to worry about Ron all the time when they first started. I thought that things were safer now, but…” She trailed off. 

“I thought so, too,” Ginny said. She still looked pale under her freckles. “But he’s been so secretive lately that I don’t know what to think. Something’s going on.”

“I’m going to find out what it is,” Hermione promised. “But Ginny, really, I think they would tell you if it was something really bad. Harry’s strong, he’s taken a lot worse than what a few Death Eater wannabes can throw at him. He faced down Voldemort, more than once! He’s going to be fine.”

Ginny nodded shakily. “I guess you’re right. I just hate feeling so helpless. I wish I could just do something!” She stood up and started pacing again. Hermione watched her from the couch. 

“All we can do is wait to hear something. I mean, we could break into Saint Mungo’s but I don’t really feel like hexing any healers today.”

That got a small smile from Ginny. She joined Hermione back on the couch. Hermione managed to keep talking about little things until finally there was a faint pop and a man in a black robe appeared in the entry way. 

“How is he?” Ginny demanded, seeming to recognize the man.

“He’s going to be fine,” the man said in a gravelly tone. He peered out at Ginny from behind a set of glasses, reminding Hermione of Dumbledore. “He’s sleeping now. The healers gave him a sleeping draught to let him recover his strength.”

“Can I see him?” Ginny asked. 

“You may.”

The three of them apparated to the hospital and followed the healer through countless hallways until they made it to a small room. Ginny rushed inside and knelt beside the bed. Harry lay there, looking peaceful as he slept. Ginny gently pushed his hair back and rested a hand on his forehead. 

“How long will he sleep for?” she asked. Hermione stood in the doorway. 

“Until tomorrow morning. You may stay if you want, but there’s no need to worry. He’ll be fine.”

“Thank you,” Ginny said. She pulled up a chair and sat down. Hermione walked to the other side of the bed and looked down at Harry’s sleeping form.

“I want to know what happened,” Ginny said after the healer left. She groaned in frustration. “Harry won’t tell me anything and Ron is almost as bad. Did he tell you anything?”

Hermione shook her head. “Just what Harry said, that there’s been more dark witches and wizards showing up and that it has something to do with dark magical artifacts. He wouldn’t say more.”

“I need to know,” Ginny said. “It’s not fair. You three, you always faced everything together. But now it’s like they’re in their own little world.”

“I’ll find out what’s going on,” Hermione said. She refused to stand helplessly by while her friends got hurt. “I promise.”


	4. Chapter 4

Hermione rolled out of bed at seven the next day but could have slept for several more hours. She had stayed late at Saint Mungo’s with Ginny, only leaving when Ginny had fallen asleep in her chair. A healer had come in a few hours before and told them the extent of Harry’s injuries. He had been hit with a blasting curse from behind and hadn’t been able to shield himself from it. Ron had managed to fight off the attacker, who was now in custody at the Ministry. Harry had needed more experienced care than the Ministry Healers could offer but Hermione was relieved to hear that he would be fine by the next day. Just with a bit of a headache, the healer had added before leaving. 

Ginny had looked relieved but strained and Hermione had felt bad leaving her, but there was only one chair in the room and Hermione could not afford to miss the next day of work. She therefore arrived at the office sharply at eight o’clock and made her way to her desk, nodding to a few people who greeted her along the way. When she arrived at her office, she found Lionel sitting at his desk grinning. She hesitatntly looked around the room and found a copy of the Daily Prophet spread across her desk, opened to page four. She eagerly picked it up and found her headline.

“House-Elf Bill Elicits Mixed Feelings Among Wizarding Community.”

She smiled up at Lionel. “They published it,” she said.

“Of course they did,” he responded. “You did good work. I brushed it up a little after you left. Go ahead and read it.”

Hermione took her seat and flattened the paper in front of her. She quickly read through it. It was mostly her own work, with some changes here and there. She had to admit that the changes made it sound better. When she had finished, she over at Lionel.

“I like it. We did a good job.”

“We did,” Lionel agreed. “Now, I am heading over to the Ministry after lunch for the press conference on the new appointments to the Hogwarts school board. Jessop said you should come with me.”

“Sounds good to me,” Hermione said. “What do I work on until then? I guess I should find Jessop.”

“He said he had a few things for you,” Lionel agreed. Hermione gathered her quill and parchment and marched two doors down the hallway to Jessop’s office.

“Come in, Granger,” he said. “I was just going to come see you. You and Lionel did good work on the House Elf article.”

“Thank you,” Hermione said. “It was fun to write.”

“Good. I have a few more leads for you to follow up on today. Lionel’s going over to write on the Hogwarts school board changes and you should go with him. There’s also a new law around modifying Muggle items. Talk to Arthur Weasley about that. He should be able to get you everything you need to put something together.”

“I can do that,” Hermione said. She was happy that her first real assignment would be over something she understood and with someone she felt comfortable with. Jessop rattled off a list of a few more topics and Hermione quickly copied them down. When she returned to her office, she started making a list of what she wanted to research first. She should be able to get her hands on the new Muggle modification law from the Ministry when she went there with Lionel. 

The morning went quickly and soon it was time to head to the Ministry. Lionel and Hermione made their way there and sat through what proved to be an intensely boring briefing about the school board changes. Hermione tried not to yawn her way through it until she was finally free to go see Arthur. He greeted her enthusiastically and spend the next hour rattling off all the ways the new law was going to make it safer to modify Muggle items within the bounds of the law. Hermione left his office with a scroll of parchment a foot long full of notes and her head swimming with various charms that Arthur was planning on testing as soon as the law was passed. She was making her way to the exit when she suddenly stopped. 

She had received a note from Ginny earlier in the day saying that Harry was awake and resting at home. She suspected that Ron was in the office or out in the field. But the healer had mentioned that the attacker was in custody at the Ministry. She didn’t know if anyone else at the Prophet was following up on the story but she was already here. Wasn’t it her responsibility to stop down at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and see if she could find some answers?

She hesitated for only a second longer before she turned and hurried back the way she had come. Hermione found a lift and soon she was on the right floor. The hall was a bustle with activity but she found the right department and stepped inside. Several people in the Auror’s office stopped to look at her but went back to work. She looked around for someone who looked like they were in charge.

“Hermione? What are you doing here?”

She turned to find Ron hurrying toward her. He looked frazzled and tired, as if he hadn’t slept. 

“I wanted to talk to you about the attack last night,” she said.

“Not now, Herm, I’m working,” Ron said, looking around. He took her arm and tried to lead her out of the office.

“I’m here as a reporter for the Daily Prophet,” she said, stubbornly staying where she was. “I’m investigating the increase in dark magic activity.”

Ron glared at her. “Are you serious?” he asked.

“The people deserve to know what’s going on,” she said. “If there’s a threat, people need to know.”

“I told you that stuff because you’re my friend, not so you can go printing it on the front page of that newspaper,” Ron said.

“I’m not printing anything you told me!” Hermione protested. “I’m just following up on a lead. I know Harry was hurt last night and it sounds like you barely made it out. And I know you have someone in custody here.”

“So what do you want?” Ron asked.

“I want to know who it is and what’s going on.”

“What’s going on here, Weasley?”

Hermione and Ron both turned to face an imposing man wearing a black robe. He towered at least a full head over Ron and. He looked between the two of them.

“Nothing, sir,” Ron said quickly.

“I’m a reporter with the Daily Prophet,” Hermione said stubbornly. “I want to talk to someone about last night’s attack and the recent rise in dark activity.”

“Hmm,” the man said. He glared down at Hermione for a second.

“She was just leaving, sir,” Ron cut in.

The man sighed. “I suppose it was only a matter of time before the press caught wind of it.” He held out a band. “Gawain Robards, head of the Auror department.”

“Hermione Granger, reporter at the Daily Prophet,” Hermione said, taking his hand. 

“What do you want to know, Miss Granger?” Robards asked.

“For starters, how long has this been going on?” Hermione asked. She quickly pulled out her quill and parchment and Robards directed her to a nearly table. 

“Several months,” Robards said, scratching his short beard. Like Ron, he looked tired. “We noticed an increase in attacks, on both magical folk and Muggles back in February.”

“Have you noticed any pattern?”

Robards shook his head. “No, none that we can find.”

“What about the caches of magical items?”

Robards looked between Hermione and Ron, who looked guilty. “I see someone’s been talking. We don’t know if there’s a link between the two. We’ve noticed an increase in black market trade of dark magic artifacts and items, but we don’t know why. It might just be a coincidence that it’s happening now. There was a similar increase after the last Wizarding War, when the old families following You Know Who sold their family heirlooms in order to fund their disappearances.” He smiled grimly. “Not that it worked for most of them.”

Hermione was scribbling furiously. “So you don’t know who’s behind it?”

“My dear, we don’t know if anyone is behind it. It could just be isolated incidents. And if I knew, I wouldn’t tip them off by telling you so it can be printed in tomorrow’s paper. Now I really need to get back to work. Weasley, come with me.”

Robards nodded at Hermione and turned around. Hermione was opening her mouth to ask one last question when she was drowned out by a deafening explosion. She dropped to the floor, operating on pure instinct, as a cascade of light came pouring from a doorway at the far side of the room. Around her, Aurors rose up with wands at the ready. She watched from behind a desk as a form in a hooded cloak appeared in the doorway. The man or woman swung its head around the room before darting between the desks, heading straight toward the exit and Hermione.

The room filled with the sound of curses being cast, but the figure dodged or blocked them, calling out “Protego” in a thin voice. A barrier appeared against the bulk of the curses but it shimmered and wavered, as if the caster were using a wand that wasn’t suited to him. The figure took refuge behind a desk and started casting back at his attackers. To Hermione’s right, an Auror fell to the ground. She gripped her wand tightly as she watched. She added her own “Expelliarmus” to the chorus of spells being directed at the fugitive. 

Hermione watched as Ron and Robards separating, staying low to the ground as they moved to opposite sides of the attacker. She could only stay still and pray as she watched Ron raise his wand and send a flash of light at the escapee. The man in the hood managed a barrier and darted out from behind his cover.

He weaved his way between the curses, seeming to be able to deflect them even without casting a barrier spell. Hermione gripped her wand tightly as he approached her hiding spot. She peered around the desk as he neared her position. She aimed another disarming spell at him but he flicked it aside with a wave of his wand. Hermione cast the spell quickly, almost automatically, as years of training and fighting came back to her. As he crossed in front of her, she aimed at his back.

“Locomotor Mortis,” she yelled. The man’s legs snapped together and he went topping forward. As he fell, though, she saw that he had managed to keep his grip on his wand. He aimed it at her and she saw the tip of his wand start to glow green. She gasped as a spell zapped past her to strike the man in the chest, sending him slumping to the ground.

Hermione put an unsteady hand to her chest as she rose to her feet. The room was deathly still around her. She could hear footsteps behind her and then Ron knelt by the stunned man.

“Weasley, get his wand,” Robards said, but Ron was already doing it. He pocketed the wand and yanked the hood back, revealing a young man in his late twenties. He had ashen blonde hair and his skin was pale. He was dressed in all black, wearing only a simple clasp at his collar. His left hand clutched something. 

Slowly, the Aurors around Hermione stood up and approached where the stunned man lay. Hermione cast a glance toward the back of the room and saw a woman being carried out from the chamber where the explosion had initially come. The front of her robes was blacked and she looked unconscious. Her face was pale and her short hair stuck out in all directions, as if she had been shocked.

Hermione slowly approached with the rest of the Aurors, looking down at the body. Ron was pulling out whatever the man had clasped in his left hand. It appeared to be an amulet with a glowing, purple eye.

“Lewis, what happened? How did Irving escape?” Robards snapped at one of the men carrying the unconscious woman. “Jensen, get a Healer, quick.” 

A woman slipped past Ron and out the door. The man called Lewis slowly laid the woman down on a desk and turned to Robards. 

“We don’t know for sure. He had an amulet of some kind hidden in his robes. When Tasha went to bring him water like he asked for, he did something with it and blasted her.”

“Why didn’t you find it when you searched him?” Robards demanded. Lewis shook his head.

“We don’t know, sir.”

“Here it is,” Ron said. He stood up and held the amulet at arm’s length from the chain. It was small enough to fit in the palm of his hand and was made from a tarnished silvery metal. He carefully deposited it on a table without touching it. Hermione could feel it emanating waves of something powerful, something evil. The thing was cursed. 

“Get someone in to check it for curses,” Robards ordered. He looked around. “Status. Is anyone else hurt?”

There were answers to the negative. The man who had been stunned was slowly climbing to his feet. Through the main door, the woman who had went for the healer returned with a young woman in tow. They quickly went to the unconscious woman, Tasha, and the healer went to work. Hermione stayed where she was, taking it in. Her heart was still pounding. She had not been in the middle of something like that for years. There had been a time when she was almost used to it. 

“Are you alright?” Ron asked, coming up to her. She nodded. 

“I’m fine,” she answered. Her voice was even. She stowed her wand in her robes and picked up her parchment and quill. “I should be leaving; you have a lot to do.”

“Miss Granger.” Robards stepped up to look down at her. “I don’t expect to read anything about this in tomorrow’s paper. We’re working an important lead. You wouldn’t want to jeopardize that.”

Hermione nodded. “Of course not.” She collected her things and stepped around the unconscious man to get out of the Auror’s office. Her head was still buzzing from the explosion and fight. She spied a sign for a bathroom and stepped inside to breathe. 

Hermione splashed some water on her face and looked in the mirror. Her face was pale and stood in sharp contrast to her dark hair. Her breathing was starting to return to normal, she was pleased to note. Maybe she wasn’t quite so out of practice after all. 

But she had work to do. She quickly unfolded her parchment on the sink and starting writing down the important highlights. Robards had called the man Irving. She had never heard the name before and he had not looked familiar. Neither had the amulet, which he had apparently used to attack his guards. She wondered if that was how he had deflected the curses thrown his way as well. He certainly hadn’t been able to block them all on his own. 

Notes finished, Hermione packed everything into her back and left the bathroom. The Ministry was crowded and she heard hushed conversations over what had just happened in the Auror’s office. She hurried to the apparition station and popped back to her office, wondering what she was going to tell Lionel and Jessop. 

As it turned out, she didn’t have to tell them anything. Lionel did not ask her how her interview with Arthur Weasley had gone and Jessop was nowhere to be seen. Hermione spent the last two hours of her workday carefully working on the article she had been assigned to write. Her own investigation would have to wait. 

She was exhausted when she made it home, but right away she noticed an owl pecking at the window. It was the same Snowy as last night. When she unfurled the parchment, she recognized Ginny’s hand. 

_Hermione,_  
_Wanted to let you know, Harry is doing much better. He asked you to stop by if you’re able after work. No pressure._  
_Ginny_

It looked as if she wasn’t going to be able to rest after all. The last twenty-four hours felt like a long blur but Hermione couldn’t leave her friends hanging. She quickly apparated over to their flat and found Harry sitting in a chair while Ginny unpacked what looked like Chinese takeout onto the living room coffee table.

“Hermione! Thanks for coming, I know you probably wanted to relax at home.” Ginny opened up a box of fried rice and set it next to what looked like curry. “We got some for you if you want.”

“Oh, thank you,” Hermione said. She hadn’t realized it until she had smelled the food upon entering, but she was starving. “How are you doing, Harry?”

Harry smiled at her but he looked tired. “I’m fine. I told Ginny that the healers overreacted. It was just a blasting curse.”

“Just a blasting curse,” Hermione repeated, sitting down next to Ginny and taking the offered box of chicken. 

“It was,” Harry insisted. “And they gave me so much sleeping draught that I felt better than ever when I woke up this morning. But Robards still insisted I take the day off.”

“Probably for the best,” Hermione told him, thinking back to the activity of the afternoon. She was sure Harry would be angry about having missed it.

“I heard you had an adventure today,” Harry said.

Uh oh. Hermione took a bite of chicken, which turned out to be sweet and sour, and tried to look innocent. “What do you mean?”

“Here it comes,” Ginny muttered as she shoveled rice into her mouth.

“Ron sent me an owl after you left the Ministry. He said you got caught up in a fight there.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Hermione told him calmly. “They had a suspect try to escape and I happened to be there. I got him with a leglocker curse and Ron stunned him. Easy.”

“Easy,” Harry snorted. “You could have been killed.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Hermione said, her blood rising. “Since when are you the only one who’s allowed to put himself in danger?”

“Since it’s my job,” Harry insisted. Hermione noticed that Ginny was still studiously paying attention to her food and had moved onto the red curry. “You had no business being there.”

“I had every right,” Hermione said. “I was following up on a lead for an article. That’s my job.”

“You write about politics!” Harry exploded. Hermione took a deep breath and tried to resist yelling back at him. She knew how Harry could get when he had his mind set on something. From the look on Ginny’s face, so did she.

“I didn’t know I was going to get in the middle of a battle,” Hermione said. “All I wanted was to ask Robards a few questions. It isn’t my fault that Irving decided to make an escape attempt.”

“She’s right, you know,” Ginny chimed in. Harry glared at her.

“I just worry about you,” he said, deflating a little. Ginny handed him a box of noodles and he took it reluctantly but didn’t touch the chopsticks sticking out the top of the box. 

“I know you do, Harry,” Hermione said gently. “I promise that I wasn’t doing anything stupid on purpose. It was just bad timing.”

“You shouldn’t even be writing that story,” Harry grumbled. “Did your boss put you on it?”

“Uh, not exactly,” Hermione said, wishing she was a better liar. “I’m sort of following up on it on my own.”

“You should stop. I mean it, Hermione. It isn’t safe and it’s not worth risking your life just for a story. Leave it to us.”

“Okay,” Hermione said reluctantly. “Did you ask me over here just to yell at me?”

“And to feed you,” Ginny chimed in. “Come on, let’s eat.”


	5. Chapter 5

Hermione spent the rest of the week diligently writing articles. She went to the Ministry a few times for press conferences or interviews. At the end of the week, Jessop called her into his office. She was nervous to hear what he had to say but he only told her that he was happy with her work so far. She left work late on Friday in high spirits.

Something had been bothering her however. She knew she had promised Harry that she would let the matter of the attacks drop, but she had also promised Ginny that she would figure out what was going on. She knew that it was eating away at Ginny, worrying about her husband and brother every day. It worried Hermione too. She felt almost an obligation to keep digging deeper. She had not helped defeat one dark regime only to see another rise to take its place.

The problem was she was not quite sure where to start. She knew that a man named Irving had been arrested and that he had been in possession of some magical amulet, something capable of deflecting incoming curses and of creating an explosion of power. And it had been powerful, powerfully evil. She had searched multiple books, one of them called “Cursed Antiquities,” for a sign of the amulet but she had been unable to find anything. Whatever it was, it hadn’t been documented anywhere. She knew that the man hadn’t been able to buy something like that on Diagon Alley.

Maybe not Diagon Alley, but Knockturn Alley, that was a possibility. She had rarely ventured there herself but she knew it was a haven for shady deals and dark wizards. Why the Ministry let it operate was beyond her. But perhaps she could find some answers there.

She knew it was foolish, but instead of going home directly from work, she apparated instead to Diagon Alley. She knew where the entrance of Knockturn Alley was from her frequent visits to the street so she treaded the familiar trail. Finally, she was standing in front of the alleyway. She imagined rather than felt the waves of darkness emitting from it. Silently she wished that she had waited until the morning to come. It was already starting to get dark.

Oh well. It was too late now. With purposeful steps, she made her way down the alley. The shops seemed to close in on either side. Finally, she came to a shop with a sign reading “Borgin and Burkes.” This was what she was looking for.

She opened the door and a small bell rang. The shop was empty. It smelled faintly of mothballs and a layer of dust lay on the counter. She looked around. There were various curiosities, statues, and books, many of which she had never seen before. She recognized a dagger from “Cursed Antiquities.” She gulped. 

There was no sign of a store owner. Hermione took the time to peer around the shelves. The store itself seemed to be emanating a dark energy, but none of the items themselves felt particularly evil. Not like the amulet had. She picked up a book and a layer of dust came off of it.

“Can I help you?”

Hermione set down the book and hurriedly turned around. There was an old man standing there. He was stooped and holding a cane. He looked at her from underneath bushy eyebrows.

“Hello! Mister Borgin?” He shook his head but offered no other introduction. Hermione pushed onward. “I’m here to ask about an amulet.”

“An amulet.”

“Yes! It’s silver with a purple gem inside it, like an eye. It possesses power of some kind.”

“An amulet, you say.”

“Yes, sir,” Hermione repeated. She suddenly regretted coming here. Perhaps this had been rash after all.

“And what would a woman like you be wanting with an amulet?”

“It’s…” She paused. “It’s for research. I’m writing a book on cursed objects, trying to catalogue them.”

“Hmm.” The man did not look like he believed her but neither did he look like he particularly cared. “Sounds dangerous.”

“Dangerous?” Hermione asked.

“You never know where a search like that might take you. You might run into some…unsavory characters.”

“I think I can take care of myself.”

“I wonder.”

The man reached under the desk but before he could pull out whatever he was reaching for, the door chimed behind Hermione. She dared not take her eyes off the man. She slowly reached into her robe for her wand.

“There you are, I was wondering what you had got off to.”

She knew that voice. Hermione turned around and found herself staring across the shop at Malfoy. “Malfoy?” she asked.

“I was worried about you. I turned around and you were gone.”

“I what?” she asked. Before she could react, Malfoy had crossed the distance between them and was taking her arm. 

“My apologies, Burke.”

“Ah Master Malfoy. But the young lady was asking about an amulet.”

“I’ll buy you whatever jewelry you want, dear, but we really have to do. Goodbye, Burke.” Malfoy half drug Hermione out of the shop. Hermione tried to shake him loose, but he didn’t release her arm until they had walked up the street and back to Diagon Alley. He stopped in front of Flourish and Blotts. 

“What were you thinking?” Malfoy asked.

“What?” Hermione exclaimed. She yanked her arm free and stepped back from him. “What was that all about?”

“That was me saving you.”

“I didn’t need saving,” Hermione retorted. She adjusted her robe and brushed off some dust that had settled on her when she was in the shop. 

“I think you did. What were you doing, going into a shop like that? And asking about some amulet? Do you have any idea what kind of stuff they sell there?”

“I do, and I would guess you do too. What, didn’t you have enough of that place in school?”  
Malfoy glared at her and Hermione realized she had struck a nerve. “What were you doing in there anyway?”

“That’s private,” Malfoy snapped. His ice grey eyes glared at her. 

“Of course.” Hermione glared back. Despite herself, she knew that Malfoy had done her a favor. She had no idea what Burke was going to do but it most likely would not have been good. “I can take care of myself.”

“So you’ve said,” Malfoy said. He continued to glare back at her. He wasn’t wearing jeans today, Hermione realized, but a silver robe over black pants and shirt. The cloak was clasped at the front with an emerald snake. “What?”

“Still the proud Slytherin,” Hermione told him.

“You’re one to talk, Miss Perfect Gryffindor. When was the last time you even talked to a Slytherin?”

“Far too recently.” Hermione turned to march away but Malfoy grabbed her arm again.

“I mean it, don’t go back there.”

“What if I do?”

Malfoy let her go. “Then you’ll get hurt. And no, that’s not a threat. I won’t be there to help next time. Whatever you’re digging at, stop it.”

“It’s funny,” Hermione said thoughtfully. “That’s the same thing Harry told me. If I didn’t listen to him then I doubt I’ll listen to you.”

“Then good luck. And don’t come crying to me when you get hurt.”

“Why would I ever come crying to you, Malfoy?” Hermione demanded. 

“Oh, that’s right, Hermione Granger, too proud of accept help even when she needs it. You’re the same as you were back and school.”

“You haven’t changed either.” Hermione wanted to stamp her foot in frustration but instead she spun around and walked away. Halfway down the street, she apparated home. She wanted to punch something but she settled for picking up Crookshanks and slowly stroking the cat’s back. Malfoy had to be the most infuriating man she had ever met. It had been bad enough having to see him once a month or so for the last few years, but now he seemed to be making a habit of getting in her way. It made her seethe to think that both times, he had apparently been trying to help her. What game was he playing?

She drifted off to sleep with Crookshanks on her lap and Ptolemy perched on his roost just above her shoulder. 

Monday came too fast and Jessop called Hermione into his office first thing.

“Sit down, Hermione,” he said, pointing to the chair across from his desk. He looked serious today and Hermione hesitantly obeyed. “I’m disappointed in you.”

“Oh.”

“I had to hear about the events at the Ministry second hand.” Hermione gulped. She had known it would only be a matter of time before her boss found out. “Why didn’t you tell me? That would have made a hell of an article. First hand account. ‘Hermione Granger Survives Ministry Attack.’ Instead, I had to hear it from Jenkins.

“I’m sorry,” Hermione said honestly. “I wanted to tell you, but Robards insisted I keep it a secret.”

“The Ministry does not dictate what we write,” Jessop said firmly. “Not anymore. That would have been a front-page story if it was printed the next day.”

“I know. It just seemed…irresponsible somehow to print it if it would have interfered with an ongoing investigation.”

“I understand that. And we sometimes have to draw that line, to withhold information from the public if we know it’s in their best interest. We wouldn’t print about an upcoming raid, for example, even if we knew about it. But this is different. Whoever the Aurors are after already know they’re being hunted. And an escape attempt is big news.”

“I guess I’m used to thinking as a Ministry employee,” Hermione said. She still wasn’t sure if printing it would have been the right thing to do but she kept her doubts to herself. 

“Next time that happens, come to me and we’ll figure it out together, okay?” Jessop said. “Are you still following up on the investigation?”

“I am,” Hermione answered truthfully. “But I don’t have much to go on. Just that it has something to do with magical items. I got a pretty good look at one of them.”

“Good.” Jessop nodded. “I want you to keep at it.”

“Are you sure?” Hermione asked before she could stop herself.

“I am. You found it so the story is yours. I just want you to check in every once in a while, let me know how you’re doing. And tell me if anything big happens. What’s your next step?”

Hermione paused. “I’m not sure. I tried investigating the amulet but I couldn’t find anything. I think I hit a dead end. I can’t find anything on the man who tried to escape, Irving, either.”

“I’ll have Gore pull past arrest records for you to see if you can find anything that matches. And for the amulet, maybe you can start asking some of the old Wizarding families. They all used to have hoards of the stuff. Maybe they would know something. Do you have any connections with those?”

Hermione started to shake her head and then stopped. “Maybe,” she answered with gritted teeth.

“Good, start there. Get to work.”

Hermione went back to her own office. She had been given permission, even told to continue her investigation and article. Now she really had a responsibility to find out what was going on. And worse than that, it looked like she was going to have to seek out the one person who she never wanted to see again. Draco Malfoy. 

Hermione put off the unpleasant reality as long as she could. By mid-week, though, after having written another article about the appointment of a new judge to the Wizengamot, Jessop stopped by to ask what progress she had made. When she reported that she had not had time to work on it, he gave her next assignment to Lionel and told her to get on it. She had no more excuses. Annoyed, she scribbled off a note to Malfoy, went and found an owl, and sent it off before she could think about it. She was half-hoping he wouldn’t respond. She certainly didn’t expect him to. To her annoyance, she received a response back that afternoon before leaving work. 

_Granger,_  
_As unexpected as your request is, I’m afraid that I have to grant it. Come to Malfoy Manor at half past six on Friday evening. Don’t be late._  
_Malfoy_

Hermione huffed her annoyance and tucked the note in her bag. The last thing she wanted was to go back to Malfoy Manor. She shivered, pushing down unwanted memories. That had been years ago. She could do this. She stepped out into the hallway and immediately collided with Ginny. Her bag went flying.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” she cried, taking a step back. Ginny was already on her hands and knees picking up Hermione’s spilled possessions.

“It’s okay,” Ginny said, half laughing. She stopped when she picked up a piece of paper. “Uh, Hermione?”

“What?”

“What is this?”

Hermione’s heart lurched when she saw what Ginny was holding. It was the note from Malfoy.

“Er…” Hermione said, trying to think of what to say.

“Are you going out there?” Ginny demanded.

“It’s for a story,” Hermione said quickly. “Jessop wants me to interview someone and he’s the only person I know who would work.”

“But…” Ginny’s face was pale under her freckles. “After what happened the last time you were there… Are you sure it’s a good idea?”

“It’ll be fine,” Hermione insisted. She paused. “I didn’t think he’d agree, to be honest. But since he did, I can’t very well ask him to come out to London.”

“You need to be careful, Hermione.”

Hermione looked at her friend. Ginny looked genuinely concerned. “I know. I’m trying to be. I just… I really want answers and Malfoy might be able to help. Trust me, going back there is the last thing I want to do.”

“How do you know you can trust him?”

Hermione thought for a second. “I guess I don’t. But you’ll know where I’ll be. If anything happens, you’ll know to come look for me.”

“With an army of Aurors at my back,” Ginny promised. She paused. “How are you getting there?” 

Hermione thought for a second. It was too far for her to apparate. “I’ll take the train.” She laughed when Ginny made a face and it broke the tension in the air. “What? I used to do it all the time.”

“Just promise me you’ll be careful.” She paused. “I thought you told Harry you were going to drop this.”

“And I told you that I’d find out what was going on.” Hermione pushed her hair out of her eyes. “Harry and Ron are in danger, and maybe a lot more people. I can’t just sit back and do nothing.”

“I understand that,” Ginny said. “Really, I do. I won’t say anything. Just promise you’ll be careful,” she repeated. 

“I promise.” Hermione said. As she gathered up her things and left the Prophet, she thought that she had been making a lot of promises lately. And she wasn’t sure if she could keep all of them.


	6. Chapter 6

Hermione stalled while gathering up her things Friday afternoon. She knew she had to get to the train station, but she couldn’t bring herself to hurry. Finally, she had rearranged her things in her bag as many times as she could. She hefted it to her shoulder and marched out the door, saying goodbye to several people as she went. She apparated to the train station, bought a ticket, and was soon on her train. 

It was an hour and a half ride to her destination and that gave her plenty of time to think. She hated to admit it, but one of the emotions churning through her was fear. She didn’t think she was in any danger, not really. She had hated Malfoy during school but the years seemed to have changed him somewhat. At least, Harry seemed to think so. Her friend had vouched for Malfoy after the war and it was mainly on Harry’s recommendation that Malfoy had avoided Azkaban. Harry seemed to think that he had changed and Hermione wanted to believe it. Her own experiences with the man had been brief but he had never been openly hostile, at least not has he had been back in school. But old habits died hard and she still felt an angry burning when she thought about him. Coupled with what had happened to her in his house, and it was hard feelings to overcome.

The ride ended all too quickly and soon Hermione was stepping off the train. She thought she remembered the house well enough to apparate over this short of a distance. At least, she hoped she did. She found a selected corner and closed her eyes. When she opened them, she was standing on a gravel drive in front of cast iron gates. 

Hermione looked around nervously. Past the gates rose tall shrubs on either side of the drive and those gave way to gardens. At the end of the drive stood a house. It was actually more of a mansion. She gulped and stepped up to the gate. She wasn’t sure if she was supposed to knock or not but then they swung open as she approached. She stepped through, feeling the crunch of gravel beneath her feet. 

The gardens were structured and well-maintained, Hermione noted as she strode down the drive, trying to look confident in case anyone was watching. She heard what sounded like a wail and spun around, only to spy a flock of peacocks at the far end of the garden. One of the mails had his tail fanned out and was calling loudly. Hermione mentally cursed them for scaring her and started walking again. Soon she made it to the front doors. They stood tall and forbidding up in front of her. She hesitantly raised a hand and knocked. 

Hermione waited for what felt like a full minute and considered turning around and running for it several times. Finally, the front door swung open and Hermione found herself staring down into the bulbous eyes of a House Elf. It was wearing a silver tunic with the a crest on it, emblazoned with the letter M. 

“Please, Miss, follow me,” the elf said in a high-pitched squeak. It turned around and lead Hermione down a long hallway. The stone floor was covered in carpet and Hermione softly padded along, trying not to stare. The hall that she was in was spacious and long and the walls were lined with portraits of what would only be a long line of Malfoys. They were all blonde, finely dressed, and sneering. Their eyes followed her as she walked and she could hear them muttering. She thought she heard the word “Mudblood” whispered. She clenched her fists and kept walking.

The elf stopped beside one of the doors along the hall and pushed it open. Hermione hesitantly stepped inside. She was in what looking like a sitting room. Sitting at a chair in the center of the room was Malfoy. He looked relaxed, more relaxed than he had been in Knockturn Alley. He was reclining in the black chair with one booted foot resting on the opposite knee. He wore no robe but was dressed simply in black pants and a silver shirt. He held a glass of dark liquid in one hand and was staring at it when Hermione entered. He looked up as she walked in.

“You found it.”

“I remembered,” Hermione said. Malfoy met her eyes for a moment and she knew that he felt the full weight of her statement. He gestured to a chair across from him.

“Please sit down.”

Hermione did so, taking the time to look around the room. It was comfortably furnished with purple wallpaper that was covered not in portraits but in landscape paintings. They looked like originals. A bookcase stood along one wall, cattycorner with a piano. The rest of the room was filled with chairs and couches. Hermione chose a green chair with a high back and wooden arms. It was more comfortable than it looked. 

“Thank you for talking to me,” Hermione said, trying to start the interview as she would with any other source. She had gotten better at that during the last week.

Malfoy followed her movements with his steel grey eyes and took a sip of his drink. Hermione saw there was a decanter and extra glasses on the table between them but he did not offer her any. Instead, he sat and surveyed for until Hermione shifted uncomfortably in her seat. 

“I thought it would be in my best interest,” Malfoy said.

“How so?”

“Hmm,” was Malfoy’s only response. He took another drink.

“I see you still have your house elves,” Hermione said by way of starting a conversation. “How did you feel about paying them?”

“They refused the payment, as expected,” Malfoy said. “Some of them seemed rather offended by it.”

“I’m surprised they didn’t want to leave,” Hermione said before she could help it.

“And why would they want to do that?”

“Well, some elves don’t particularly enjoy being mistreated.”

“Unlike some, I don’t mistreat my elves.”

“Don’t forget, I knew Dobby,” Hermione said, challenging him. Malfoy studied her with his grey eyes.

“That was my father. He no longer lives here.”

“Oh,” Hermione said. She looked around. The house was identical to the last time she had been here, from what little she could remember. “Where is he, then?”

“He and my mother live at the summer cottage now. Malfoy Manor is mine.”

“That must be nice for you,” Hermione said snidely. 

“It is my responsibility to bear,” Malfoy said cryptically. He leaned forward and set his glass on the table. “Now, what did you want to ask me?”

Hermione pulled her parchment and quill out of her bag, balancing the ink pot on the arm of the chair. “I’m investigating recent appearances of magical items.”

“I think you should say disappearances,” Malfoy cut in. Hermione looked up sharply.

“Why do you say that?”

“Tell me, why are you investigating this? You seem determined. Determined enough to put your safety on the line to go down to Knockturn Alley. What does this mean to you?”

“I’m a reporter,” Hermione said. “I’m doing my job.”

“If you expect me to be honest with you, the least you can do is be honest in return.”

Hermione glared at him. “My friends are putting themselves in danger. I want to know what’s going on and to see if I can help.”

Malfoy nodded. “The Golden Trio, sticking together as always.”

“If you didn’t want to answer my questions, you shouldn’t have invited me.”

“What makes you think I don’t want to answer your questions?”

“Why did you invite me here?” Hermione demanded. She set her parchment aside. “No, enough games. I know you don’t like me. I don’t like you either. But you’re the one who interrupted me in Knockturn Alley and now you invited me here. What’s going on?”

“I mentioned disappearances earlier. It turns out that I’ve been robbed. A large number of artifacts have gone missing from my store rooms. I want to know where they’ve gone.”

Hermione took this in. “And you think I can help.”

“I’d like to hope so, yes. But that’s looking less likely by the minute. What do you actually know, Granger?”

Hermione stiffened. “I know that magical items are being used for dark purposes. I know there was a man named Irving who almost escaped from Auror custody using a silver amulet with a purple eye. I know more than you’d like to think.”

Malfoy seemed to be processing the information. Hermione cursed herself as he slowly took a sip. She had let him goad her into revealing more than she intended. He was supposed to be giving her information, not the other way around. 

“Irving. Xavier Irving?”

“I don’t know his first name.”

“About our age, blonde, pale?”

“Yes, he looked a lot like you, actually.”

“Don’t be silly,” Malfoy said. He picked up the glass and took a sip. “That’s concerning, though.”

“Why, do you know him?”

“I did. His father was friends with mine, back before the war. His family went underground instead of joining either side but they always leaned more into Voldemort’s ideals than against them. If he’s back, he’s planning something.”

“What is it?” Hermione asked eagerly.

“Why would I know? Do I look like I consort with dark wizards?” Hermione kept silent. Malfoy set the glass down with a bang. “Whatever you may think of me, Granger, I haven’t spent the years since the war planning the rise of a second Dark Lord.”

“Only Death Eaters called him that.”

“And what do you think I was?” Malfoy asked softly. Hermione let the question hang in the air, not sure how to respond. 

“How long ago were you robbed?” Hermione asked, changing the subject abruptly. 

“A week ago. I noticed that the wards I had placed on the store rooms had been broken. The house elves knew nothing about it. They could only have been broken by someone familiar with the house and its magic.”

“Could it have been your father?” Hermione asked.

“I considered that. But no, it was not.” He did not elaborate further.

“How can you be sure?” Hermione demanded. She did not know what Lucius Malfoy had been doing since the war ended, but she had to assume that it was something bad. He had avoided Azkaban due to his actions at the end of the war, but Hermione wasn’t sure that he didn’t deserve to be there. 

Malfoy fixed her with a stare and Hermione squirmed in her seat. She realized that she was intruding into private matters. 

“I know my father,” Malfoy eventually said. “We may not have the…best relationship but he wouldn’t steal from his own family.”

“Maybe he needed the money,” Hermione threw out. Malfoy let out a short, barking laugh.

“I don’t think you understand exactly how rich my family is,” he said. “Or what my relationship with my father is like. Trust me, he and my mother are not poverty-stricken.” Malfoy took a sip of his drink as he surveyed Hermione. “We have not always gotten along,” he finally said, “but my father has his own peculiar sense of honor. He would never intentionally disgrace the Malfoy name. No, someone else stole my magical artifacts, some of them very powerful.”

“What would they use them for?” Hermione asked, letting the matter drop. 

“Who knows? Many of them were cursed and could do a lot of damage in the right hands. Some were magicked to amplify the caster’s powers. Some could create magical barriers. Some could replace a healer.”

“What about the amulet?” Hermione asked. Malfoy shook his head. 

“That was not one of mine. But if Irving had it, someone must have given it to him. He couldn’t have broken into Malfoy Manor on his own.”

“Who could he be working with?” Hermione asked. She started hurriedly taking notes again. 

“He had a lot of friends, but most of them are either dead or in Azkaban.” Malfoy paused, thinking. “There was a man named Relias. He was strong but he refused to side with Voldemort during the war. I think he worked for the Ministry. Before the second war broke out, he disappeared. Some people said Voldemort had killed him but I don’t think so. Voldemort would have gloated about it. Maybe Relias is back.”

Hermione wrote down the name and underlined it. She had never heard it before. 

“What do you think they’re after?”

Malfoy shrugged, a strange gesture from him. “What is anyone after? Power.”

Hermione looked at him. He looked entirely at home in his surroundings with his expensive clothing, but she could tell something was eating at him. Maybe he really was angry over the stolen things. “I guess if it’s that important to you,” Hermione muttered. She could feel Malfoy’s eyes on her as she wrote. “Why are you telling me all this?” she asked finally.

“I told you, I think you might be able to help.”

“You can’t investigate it on your own.”

Malfoy paused. “There are certain people who don’t like my family. Your friend Potter, for example, and Weasley. I think you would have an easier time getting the information you need from the right people.”

“Whereas you’re more at home in Knockturn Alley,” Hermione said. Malfoy’s eyes narrowed. 

“As I recall, you were the one fishing for answers in Borgin and Burkes. It’s a dangerous game to play.”

“I think I can handle it,” Hermione told him. “Do you know anything else?”

Malfoy shook his head. “Sadly, no. I don’t know what they’re planning, exactly. Just that they need a lot of magical energy to do it. And they have it. They robbed Nott’s manor, too.”

“Theodore Nott?”

Malfoy nodded. “Two days ago. That’s why I agreed to meet with you. Something has to be done.”

“Do you know anything else?” Hermione asked. Malfoy shook his head. 

“Unfortunately not.”

Hermione cast a drying charm on her parchment and rolled it up. She stashed it in her bag.

He stood up finally and snapped his fingers. Immediately, the door opened and a house elf stepped inside the room. “Granger is leaving, lead her to the front door.”

“Yes, Master Malfoy,” the house elf said, bowing deeply. Hermione bit back a grimace. Instead, she turned to Malfoy.

“Thank you for your time.”

“My pleasure, Granger. I always enjoy our chats.”

The house elf lead Hermione out of the room and back through the front hall. Hermione had a lot to think about on the train ride home. She wasn’t quite sure if Malfoy had been entirely honest with her. He had said that his house had been robbed, and Nott’s after his. She had no idea what kind of protective wards and charms were on Malfoy Manor but she imagined that they had to pack quite a punch. Whoever had done it had either had very powerful magic or knew a way around. It was possible that Malfoy had taken the objects himself, sold them, and then made up the story about the robbery as a way to deflect blame. But there had been something in his eyes when she had mentioned Irving. Some kind of old wound that had been reopened. She could not entirely believe that he was part of whatever was going on. 

Now, at least, she had some answers. She had somewhere she could start. And she wasn’t going to stop until she knew what was going on.


End file.
